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THE DOGS.

TO THE ABUSERS OF THE LIBERAL.

"GENTLEMEN,"

THIS little poem is dedicated to you. It is not the wish of the Liberal to write satire and personal politics; but if you insist upon our earning a right to be heard with the sword, it must be so. Some persons, it seems, must either do this, or consent to be trampled into silence, let them be as forbearing as they may. That we can forbear, we know well, and so do you:-that we can make you cry out again with non-forbearance, we know also:-but we fight, like the Greeks and Spaniards, to obtain the right and the tranquillity of speech, and not to trample on every body in turn. The satire in the first number of the Liberal was produced by those who attacked us before-hand:-the satire in the second is the result of the attacks on the first. It will be for yourselves to judge how soon we are to leave off this boy's-play and cutting of knuckles. The moment we can turn our swords into ploughshares and our spears into pruninghooks, we shall be happy to cultivate those calmer fields of knowledge, which (with your leave be it spoken) you are a set of prodigious fools for not knowing how to look to at

once.

THE DOGS.

"I at this time got a post, being for fatigue, with other four. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington's Hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time; as we got our own fill, while we broke the biscuit—a thing I had not got for some days. When thus engaged, the Prodigal Son was never once out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the Dogs, over my humble situation and my ruined hopes."—Journal of a Soldier of the 71st Regt. during the War in Spain.

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1.

I SING a matter of some sixty dogs,

That dined in the Peninsula on biscuit.

Under the old regime the French eat frogs;

Under the new some Englishmen would frisk it

If they had any thing besides their fogs.

I'd thank Apollo therefore to touch his kit,
While I strike up a dance, that I've a notion
Will set the whole of Puppydom in motion.

2.

Attend then to me, puppies of all sorts,

All by whom hangs a tale; including you,

The blacker kind, who practise in the courts,

And from the back of whose strange curls hang two:
And you, of whom I hear such bad reports

In these great times, ye poor inferior crew,
Ye Men-do you too listen to my song:
I mean to shew you that your claims are wrong.

3.

And you, red-coated dogs, not commonly
So call'd, for ye are men,-but ye alone,
Who only when the drum sounds fidget ye,
And rise like men; and soon as it is done,
Fall to the earth like proper puppies, quæ
Ventri obedientia sunt, and prone,

As Sallust has it,-hear what your Bard says,
And then (I ask no better) go your ways.

4.

And thou, thou other lucky dog, and diner,
Who from the Frenchman's biscuit-guiding hand
Munch'd out side faces of Voltaire, none finer,
Look from the dog-star down, that rules thy land!
'Twas thine to eat, no king's bitch embonpoint-er,
When good-old-times'-men's legs could hardly stand:
And then thou bit'st, as some would say, for snacks,
Men out of countenance behind their backs! (1)

5.

Nor thou, great Duke of Wellington, disdain
To hear about the curs, for they are thine:
Nay, pardon my poor words, my common strain,
Disdain thou can'st not, though the strain is mine:
The subject will excuse me for my brain :
To write's but human, but of dogs divine.
I shamefully forgot, great Sir, that when
Dogs are to be considered, what are men?

6.

Many a jolly dog has been renown'd,
Especially for eating people's dinners;

E'en men have merit when like them they're found (2)
To hold well out, and make their masters winners;
But all the dogs on earth, cur, whelp, and hound,
To these I speak of, have but been beginners.
Even the pack recorded by Herodotus
Knuckles before them; I declare to God it does.

7.

Herodotus says only that there were

Four villages alloted for their dogs-meat; (3)
A handsome pension, I allow: but here

Warriors stand by, wanting, like proper rogues, meat,
Bread being even for a few too dear,

While the Duke's hounds to their respective progs meet.
Warriors, mind-hollow squares-without whom, marry! an
Arbiter I could name had now been carrion. (4)

8.

Yes, "Heav'n be prais'd! Thanks to our lucky stars!
Thanks to our wounds !" the five fatigued men said,
"This day, the happiest one of all our wars,
This day, this glorious day, we dine on bread!"
For why?"For why? look at these glorious scars,
This one, and this, and this upon my head;
To day's our turn, by reason of these wounds,
To break up biscuit for the General's hounds."

9.

"Good God!" says one, "I fancy the bread here! I think it's one o'clock-I think it's two

I think I see my company appear—

Ah! Jowler, boy-and Towler, how dy'e do?—
And then the biscuit comes-excuse this tear,
But I'm to break it-oh, if you but knew—
But never mind-I know, and that's enough
To make me think no biscuit bad or tough.

10.

"A word, Sir, in your ear-The other day,
I longed to eat a piece of the Duke's horse.
Another time, beside a ditch, there lay
Something, I hate to think of it—but worse:
All said,-but never mind what people say-
The man who eat of it, felt no remorse. (5)
Twasn't, he said, like biscuit; and 'twas true:
But that was for the dogs-the happy few.

11.

"We are but human beings,-common men;
They are uncommon puppies, real riches;
We do but fight, and fight, and fight again;
They sometimes take surprising leaps o'er ditches:
We only are of use to the Duke, when
Unoccupied with his delightful bitches:

They are his ornaments, his dogs, his dulce,

More fit to pat than our poor linsey-woolsey.

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